


juncture

by Anonymous



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Fluff, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 23:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13041795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: just small moments set in an AU where Daud's Emily's spymaster and DotO never happenedbecause it didn't





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just reposting from tumblr while i procrastinate on another work lmao

It was one of those rare evenings where the smog that usually blanketed Dunwall had receded, allowing for a unblemished picturesque sunset over the harbour. A sunset which, under less trying circumstances Daud might have been inclined to pair with a nice Tyvian red (pilfered from Empress Emily’s stores). 

Unfortunately, the only ‘red’ he encountered was on the shirt he’d used to try to stop Corvo from bleeding out all over the rooftop they were on.  He was stuck trying to stitch the latter up as quickly as possible lest Emily the Just became Emily the Just Changed Her Mind About Granting Daud Amnesty.  

He’d been told she’d done it out of thanks to Billie, which was a charming sentiment, but he wasn’t so naive as to believe that a student tutored by the brightest philosophical minds in the Empire would overlook the usefulness of one of the few men who could go toe to toe with the Royal Protector. A student touched by the Outsider, no less.  

He noticed the smirk on Corvo’s face and scowled.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s  _very_ funny.”

“I’m starting to think you and I have different criteria for that word.” Daud muttered. He handed a vial to Corvo. “ _Drink_.”

Corvo paused just as he raised the elixir to his lips. “We’ll just tell her it was my fault–”

“It  _was_ your fault, now  _drink_.” Daud growled.  Corvo shrugged and sculled the rest of the elixir, his nonchalance towards his own mortality nothing short of infuriating. “Witches aren’t your average two-bit thugs you find loitering in an alley. They’re cunning.”

Corvo replaced the stopper with a grin, Daud’s words apparently going in one ear and out the other. 

“They are also  _dead_ , Daud.”

“Reckless,” Daud muttered, turning to the horizon and taking little comfort in the stillness of the ocean. All he could see was the Empress’ face as they arrived back at the palace, her fingers brushing idly against the sword that never left her hip.  

“You’re useful to her.” Corvo stated, as if it was supposed to be a compliment. In his hand was a flask.  He offered it to Daud, perhaps as an additional peace offering. “It’s Tyvian.”

“And when I outgrow that ‘usefulness’?”

Corvo almost looked bored. “Better the sword at your throat, than the dagger in your back,” he said.  “But if worst comes to worst, you have me to vouch for you.”

“More’s the pity.” Daud muttered.

He accepted the flask and tossed it back, watching the sun make its inevitable dip beneath the horizon.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im all about that au, bout that au, no canon
> 
> \-- set pre-dishonored 2

The night of Emily’s re-coronation, Samuel steals away from the festivities in a skiff toward the Amaranth II with a haste that rivals a frantic Corvo when he rescued Emily from Kingsparrow.  He’s just pulled himself aboard when sparks shoot up into the sky, exploding in vibrant bursts of the Dunwall colors before fading into darkness.   

“Damn you Sokolov,” Samuel laughs, clutching at his heart.  He’s not sure if the first explosion had stopped it; it certainly feels like the second caught him and pulled him back from the void.   Whatever the case, he’s just grateful that he can enjoy a nice–

“What are you damning Sokolov for this time?” Emily asks, and Samuel nearly pitches over the starboard with the bottle of cider he’d just opened.

Nearly, because Corvo caught him just in time.  He helps Samuel to sit, then deftly removes the top off the cider bottle before passing it back.  He does it swiftly enough that Samuel doesn’t see his sword, only hears the telltale sound of a blade sliding back into its sheath.  Samuel shivers and tells himself it’s because of the wind. Tries not to think of the boy with ink black eyes staring up at him from the bottom of the ocean.

[You’ve led an interesting life, Samuel Beechworth.]

“Alright there Samuel?” Emily asks with a giggle, an opened bottle of cider in hand.  Mischievous as always, Samuel thinks while Corvo pulls over a crate to sit on. Without warning Emily tosses him a bottle, but the Protector’s hand comes up at the last second and catches it before it has a chance to shatter against his face. With those kinds of reflexes, one can’t help but wonder if Corvo really did lose the Mark.

“The party was getting boring so we thought we’d join yours.” Emily explains.

Samuel chuckles, as does Corvo. Whenever Em says ‘we’ it really means everyone else is an unwitting participant, along for the ride.  Not that Samuel would ever complain.  

Emily sniffs experimentally at the mouth of her bottle, nose wrinkling for only half a second before her face lights up. “Morleyan. Excellent.” She tosses it back without hesitation.  Behind her the sky rains sparks of pink, blue and lavender this time.

“I take it Wyman has heroically decided to be Empress-For-The-Night?” Samuel asks.

“What gave it away?” Corvo asks dryly, bottle raised halfway to his lips.  

“I couldn’t help but notice that Empress Emily’s shirt and slacks look a lot more loose on her.” Corvo nods sagely.  Takes a sip.  "And that there’s a fair amount of wrinkling that could only have come from–“

Corvo chokes but powers thorough it with a face that’s turned considerably red and Emily laughs, clapping him on the back until he recovers.  

“Oh, Wyman loves it. And people are too drunk to notice the height difference.”

Samuel sips, smiling. “Too drunk or too afraid of the Royal Protector?”

Corvo shrugs as if it can’t be helped, but still manages to look pleased   
nonetheless.  

“We’ve seen you come out here every night,” he says.

“Alone.”

“Yes, alone,” Corvo emphasises, looking at Emily. “We thought you might appreciate the company just this once.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t bring enough cider for company.”

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” Emily laughs, and she opens her coat to reveal ten more bottles lining her pockets.

A very interesting life indeed, Samuel agrees.


End file.
